


Viva La Revolution

by thenectophile



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:36:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19742992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenectophile/pseuds/thenectophile
Summary: War came too early for all the Hogwarts students but for Sirius, it had always been war





	Viva La Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I'm hoping I can meander my way into about ten chapters with a word count of 50k. I am also hoping this meander soon becomes a purposeful walk. Please help me out by giving me all the constructive criticism.
> 
> Thank you and (hopefully) happy reading!

Prologue

War came too early for all the Hogwarts students but for Sirius Black, it had always been war.

Grimmauld Place was not what one would call a conducive environment for a child. It was cold and draughty. The house seemed to be solely made up of dark corners in which malicious somethings could lurk. It was tall and narrow. The house seemed to have the structural integrity of an eighty year old’s skeleton and creaked and heaved whenever Sirius took the stairs two at a time. But it was all Sirius had known and he didn’t complain.

Sirius was a curious child, all wide eyes and earnest stares. But the house never had time for his questions. Orion Black was a dark and silent silhouette looming down upon Sirius. He always cut a menacing figure, aloof from the responsibilities of parenting. Walburga, on the other hand, loved to be a parent. Mostly she loved the power that she could wield because of it. She loved to sermonise to her children and she loved to discipline them when they went wrong- which was quite often, according to her- and she loved to remind them of their place. It was all about being in one’s place with Walburga; as a child, as a pureblood, as a man. ‘A place for everyone and everyone in their place,’ she told Sirius when he asked why Andi was not allowed into their home. ‘A place for everyone and everyone in their place,’ she told Sirius when he asked if he could have a car. ‘A place for everyone and everyone in their place,’ she told Sirius when he asked why Purebloods were superior.

Expressing frustration with a modified adage being disguised as an answer did not endear Sirius to Walburga. He was struck down quickly and efficiently. So Sirius, cheek still smarting, made his way to the library. He took down as many books as he could find about Salazar Slytherin and started reading them. At first, he accepted what he read without question. Soon, he was the model child. But more question crowded his mind whether he wanted them to or not. And he needed answers. He knew better than to ask Walburga. Instead, he made his way to the public library. The muggle one. 

Sirius had never felt so daring, so cunning, as when he told his mother he was going for a walk and made his way to the library. He never felt so illicit and dirty. He imagined everyone on the street were casting furtive looks in his direction. He imagined the accusations of betrayal in their eyes and he imagined their cold fury. He huddled into his cloak and hurried on as inconspicuously as possible. Sirius needed answers. He was hungry for them. He was starved for so long and he felt like he was wasting away without them. 

When he entered the library and saw the rows of books and the silent acceptance- he saw decadence. A sumptuous feast. He went from the fiction section to the self help to the kids to the history to the biographies. Sirius didn’t know where to start. He wanted to swallow all the words all at once. He had neither the time nor the patience to go one by one and select literature. He saw the potential for all the answers and an almost manic laugh escaped his lips in the dead silence of the library. 

It was May 1968 and Sirius Black was eight years old when he started reading about the French Revolution and thus began Sirius’ education on revolution. When it was 1971 and it came time for Sirius to leave for Hogwarts, Sirius was ready. He was ready to escape Grimmauld Place. He was ready for more answers and more questions. At eleven, Sirius Black was a precocious revolutionary. He had inherited quite a few Black family traits- the arrogant stance, the cold grey eyes, the cleft chin, the quick temper. But he had not inherited their fanaticism. This was Sirius Black’s first act of revolution.

When he sat in front of the entire school with the Hat on his head, Sirius did not much care which house he would be in. ‘Not Slytherin,’ he thought with all his might, though. The spirit of revolution demanded he not be in Slytherin. ‘I mustn’t be like all the rest of them. I must forge my own path.’  
And the Hat yelled ‘Gryffindor’ and declared the success of yet another act of revolution. Another battle won in the war he waged against his own nature. 

It was 1977 and Sirius was about to enter his last year of schooling and revolution had never been more important. So when Walburga yelled that Sirius no longer belonged to the family, Sirius found himself agreeing with his mother for the first time in living memory. The flurry of activity and screaming subsided immediately. Sirius nodded curtly and left his mother’s presence. He didn’t even slam the door of his room. There was no need anymore. He was done fighting his parents. It was time he recognised a lost cause when he saw one. There was nothing to do now but execute a swift and strategic exit. 

He allowed himself a five minute temper tantrum in which he threw his things around and cried a bit. When his time was up, Sirius gathered all his rage and his desperation and his raw ache for understanding from his family and he shoved it in a little box at the nape of his neck and he sealed it shut. With that done, he started packing his trunk. The chaos of Sirius’ room had an order to it only he could decipher. 

Things beneath his notice were strewn across the floor- old clothes, sweet wrappers, dirty socks. Things that reassured him were displayed proudly on the walls- Gryffindor banners, photos of his friends and some posters. There was a picture of the Quidditch team with James Potter sitting in the middle like a proud mother hen with his Quidditch captain badge. There was a picture of the four Marauders, all of them grinning into the camera. The rest of the pictures were all the ones that Remus had taken. Fifth year had heralded Remus’ brief but torrid affair with the polaroid camera. There was a picture of the castle as seen from the far side of the lake. There were pictures of the tranquil lake and one picture where the Giant Squid had broken the surface of the lake obligingly for Remus to photograph and immortalise. There was one of Hagrid's shabby hut and his pumpkin patch with pumpkins as large as beach balls. Remus had managed to take a few shots of the Forbidden Forest as well. There was another picture of Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald and Marlene McKinnon arm in arm and smiling cheerfully into the camera. And then there was The Picture. 

Remus had pulled Sirius close with an arm around his neck as he extended his other arm and turned the camera around. It was blurry and off centre. Sirius was in the middle of rolling his eyes and Remus’ eyebrows were furrowed as he concentrated on taking The Picture. Sirius felt Remus’s phantom touch on the back of his neck as he looked at The Picture and his entire body pulsed with fire again. Thus had begun Sirius’ hopeless crush on one Remus Lupin. 

In Sirius’ head, there was Moony and there was Remus. Remus was the boy everyone saw. He was kind, smart in a bookish kind of way and good humoured. The adults loved Remus for his steady temper and his sensible clothes and his self effacing smile. Moony lived under the quiet concentration of Remus in class when he muttered sly comments under his breath for only Sirius to hear. Moony lived underneath Remus’ passive acquiescence to the rules as he told the Marauders exactly how to exploit the loopholes. Moony thrived under Remus’ curious nature that helped them discover all kinds of charms and nifty little tricks that flew under the Hogwarts radar. Moony lived underneath Remus’ cardigan in the freckles spilled across his strong and wiry shoulders, in the scars Remus kept hidden, in the way he smelled like fresh grass and tobacco, in the way his mouth carefully formed the syllables of Sirius’ name like it was something hallowed. Sirius loved Remus but he was madly, recklessly, irrevocably in love with Moony. Sirius tucked The Picture into the pocket of his jeans.

Sirius’ desk was strewn with books and records. These were things that occupied Sirius’ thoughts and drove his actions. Most of them were Muggle. All of them were punk- the embodiment of the spirit of revolution. Sometimes Sirius fancied himself the personification of punk. The kind of ‘fuck you’ sentiment that punk exuded was something Sirius aspired to. Punk was angry with the way things were. Punk wanted things to change and it shouted about it with a reckless abandon. 

It took an hour but Sirius was packed and ready to leave. He left the room as non-Slytherin as possible. The Gryffindor banners stayed and, with the help of a couple of very strong Permanent Sticking charms, would be staying for good. Sirius wasn’t that done with the fight. He thought that if the fight ever left his body, he would simply fall and be swallowed up by the earth. The fight was what animated Sirius, what gave him life and spirit. If the fight left his body, it would leave with his last breath. 

So he walked out of that horrid house and into the pouring rain. He disillusioned his trunk and dragged it behind him as he set off for the nearest Underground station, a ten minute walk. He rode it to the last stop- almost the outskirts of London. He found a secluded place and he apparated with a loud and definitive crack. A crack that resounded within Sirius. He was free now and his blood sang with equal parts fear and elation. Sublime. Sirius felt sublime. 

He appeared, breathless and almost keeling over, in front of the gates of Potter Manor. The rain pounded the earth like it had a personal vendetta and Sirius was soaked and shivering again within seconds. He pushed the gates open and made his way up the path just as the doors opened and light spilled out, blocked by James’ silhouette. For a second, everything froze and Sirius saw the overdramatic image of James’ dark figure outlined by the soft yellow light standing there as calm as anything while a storm raged around him, never touching him. And then James ran towards him and the moment was over. 

‘What the fuck, Sirius. You’re a bloody wizard,’ and he proceeded to cast all kinds of drying and warming charms on Sirius as he hurried him along inside the house. And this odd combination of worry and chastisement startled a laugh out of Sirius that turned into a bit of a sob by the time it left his throat and encountered the world. ‘Sirius, have you finally cracked?’ And James’ tone seemed to completely lack any sort of jocularity and Sirius had to stop and explain properly but all that came out was a very hoarse, ‘I left forever.’ 

James’ posture changed immediately and Sirius knew he understood. ’It’s okay,’ James whispered and Sirius was about to rage that no, nothing was bloody okay when James followed it up with, ‘you’re home now,’ and Sirius’ rage died and he was left with a warmth that curled cautiously around his heart.


End file.
